So here's the thing. The whole wrist thing has come with way more indignities than it should have. I started my period on the exact same day that I managed to slip and fall on my way into the office, so I've had to deal with that. Good times. Luckily for me, tampons are a one hand operation.
As long as we're in the TMI zone, let me tell you about what the constant influx of narcotics has done to my internal systems. I am someone who never has a problem evacuating my innards, but tonight we had to make an emergency stop at the grocery store to stock up on All Bran and prunes because my butt is protesting. And I'll be damned if I give up my Vicodin.
In other news, we saw the surgeon today and he pretty much looked at my x-rays and instantly said "Yep, we need to operate". And while I was there, I got word that yep, it was going to be a worker's comp claim so it became a whole new thing. Anyway, the surgery is supposedly happening Thursday, thanks to the worker's comp coordinator at the surgeon's office who told the worker's comp adjuster that it HAS to happen this week because the fracture "is no bueno!" Yeah, she was awesome.
The topper to this Festival of Fun? Doc says he wants me away from work for at least a month, if not more.
I am already bored out of my skull. Pleas end me entertainment ideas. PLEASE.
I fell down and broke my wrist this morning. I haue no idea how I'm going to manage pulling my pants down to pee but hey, this vicodin is awesome!!
Ortho appointment this afternoon to see if I need surgery. I'm just glad I got my rings off before the fingers swelled up.
Update later, I promise.
UPDATE: Turns out I have something known as a Volar-Barton fracture, which is, in the words of the ortho guy, "notoriously unstable". So he reset it the best he could and tomorrow I have to get a CT scan to make sure that it's where it's supposed to be. If it's not, I get a plate in my wrist. Good times.
Also, it just took me 10 minutes to type this update. Boo.
Today is my best friend's birthday, and after 23 years in each other's lives, all I could think of to send her was an e-card of two old ladies at a club speaking to each other in a manner that was highly inappropriate for elderly women. It was perfect since when I imagine life as a 90 year old woman, I always see the two of us sitting on the porch of some lovely old mansion-turned-retirement-home, sharing a pitcher of apple martinis and talking shit about every damn person who walks by in between berating the neighborhood children. Because that's how we roll.
I spent most of my weekend up in the LBC with her, something that hadn't been done in entirely too long. On Saturday night, a couple of her local friends joined us for a well-deserved girls' night out. Our only intention for the night was to look hot and get drunk.
We accomplished the first part. The rest is an entirely different story.
The four of use were looking esoecially hot, I have to admit. Autumn has a rack that really it rather amazing, especially considering that she's like 5'2", Lynn is an artist with makeup so her eyes looked amazing, Laura had a new adorable and perfect haircut, and I was rocking this bad ass dress (but in purple instead of blue) with these bad ass shoes. If we were a gang, we would be known as the Hot Bitches. See?
Anyway, our plan was sushi followed by drinking and dancing. Downtown Long Beach is a bitch to park in though, so the sushi place we were going has a great schtick...a free limo for people to ride in down to the restaurant. Fantastic idea, right? we thought so too, until the four of us spent 10 minutes standing on a street corner looking like amateur hookers while we watched the limo driver pass us not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES before he finally noticed us jumping up and down and waving our arms like crazy people. The topper? The limo had a fantastic graffiti-like graphic splashed all over it letting everyone know who it belonged to. Totally pimptastic.
Anyway, dinner was relatively uneventful....tossed back a couple of vodka tonics with our sushi and then headed across the street to do more drinking and then some dancing. It was pretty dead when we got there, so all we did was sit around drinking vodka tonics and playing pool. And people watching. Lots and lots of people watching. At one point, this group of rough looking gilrs came in, and I leaned over to Autumn and asked if she didn't think one of the girls needed to be told that her shirt made her look like a tranny.
"Honey, I think that IS a tranny!" said Autumn. And so we all thought that there was indeed an unfortunately put together tranny amongst us, despite the fact that I seriously couldn't believe that any tranny would go out looking like such an awkward mess. I mean, I think it's against tranny rules and regulations to go out in public looking like a hot mess. Anyway, later in the night, the tranny and her friends ended up sitting down next to me in the pool/lounge area and it was completely not a tranny. No Adam's apple, no man ands, and no heavy coat of makeup covering up the stubble. It was just an awkward girl in an unfortunate outfit who needs some new friends with some sense of style to help fix her up a bit.
Because even though she wasn't, she did look like a tranny.
Around 11, I heard Autumn say that she was bored. And also, somehow not drunk despite the four vodka tonics each of us had consumed since walking in the bar. It was like she was inside my head. So we tumbled into a cab and headed to this little dive bar across the street from Laura's condo, a bar that I was entirely too overdressed for. On my way into the bar, a random girl in the parking lot stopped me to tell me that the dress looked really good on me. She was the third woman to say that to me that night, and you know you're looking hot when non-lesbian women are telling you that your dress is awesome on you. Apprently the dress offended and/or worried at least two girls in the bar though, since they found it necessary to tell Autumn to tell me that my boob was about to fall out of my dress. I responded the only way I knew how...I told her that really, it was only half of my boob showing. And when she didn't believe me, I pulled my dress down adn showed her that really my boob was in no danger of falling out ever. THAT was entertainment. I love shocking strangers for no reason.
I guess maybe I was a little bit drunk after all.
Laura and I spent Sunday doing what we do best together....we laid around the house talking shit and watching TV. We watched 4 1/2 straight hours of The Dog Whisperer and just barely stopped ourselves from going straight to the shelter to get her a dog.
I miss getting to do that with her. I call her my best friend, but she's more than that. She's known me basically my whole life, and our families have embraced each other to the point where we might as well be sisters. She's totally my heterosexual life partner/soulmate, and I'm lucky to have her.
When I was in college, I always lived either on or near the campus, mostly because it was safest if you stayed within the "student zone". The "student zone" was the section of LA that lays within the Hoover-Vermont-Adams-Exposition block, an area where you are almost guaranteed to have nothing but fellow USC students as neighbors. It being a college campus, there were of course tons and tons of fast food restaurants nearby, most of which were conveniently open 24 hours a day.
(As an aside, I just realized that I totally forgot to put on deodorant this morning. I have no idea how I managed to do that, but I did. I suppose it's a good thing I am a remarkably unstinky person, so this does not really affect me all that much. ANYWAY.)
My roommate and I used to ride our bikes to Del Taco at 11pm for chicken quesadillas to get us through our all nighters, and any time we went to McDonald's she would insist on quizzing the cashier as to the freshness of the fries (seriously, the girl once made them make fresh ones for her because she didn't think the ones she got were fresh enough). But the place we went to most was (of course, because it was cheap) Taco Bell.
Man, we ate more cheap tacos than any human really should. I suppose that this is true of msot college students, being the broke and hungry population that they are. God knows I graduated swearing that I had eaten enough Taco Bell to last me a lifetime.
And yet.....
I still eat Taco Bell. Not only do I eat Taco Bell, I eat it on a regular basis. I have no idea why I love Taco Bell, especially considering that dude, most Taco Bells in San Diego are within a block of a real honest-to-God taco shop, but I do. I love it. You know how some people are addicted to McDonald's fries and have to eat them a few times a week? That's how I am about Taco Bell. After both 3-Day Walks, i demanded Taco Bell tacos, a lot of them. Even at the peak of my Weight Watching, we were eating Taco Bell because hello, they have healthy stuff too! And it has the same crack-like addictive power as their regular stuff!
You don't have to tell me I have a problem. I know I totally do. I mean, it's gotten to the point where I'm pretty sure that the lunch time staff at the Taco Bell near my job recognizes me. I'ts completely white trash but oh well. I'm a Taco Bell Junkie.
Please feel free to share your embarrassing addictions. It'll make me feel better about myself.
Today is our six month anniversary. We celebrated by laying around the house and going bowling. We are true party animals.
So many people have said that the first year of marriage is hard, that being mnarried is so much different from just living together. I don't think I believe them. Maybe it's because Kevin and I wouldn't have even bothered getting engaged if we weren't sure that this was it, that we were through looking and we were going to be together for the proverbial forever and ever, amen. You know what was hard? The last 4-6 months before the wedding were hard.
They were hard because we spent a lot of time talking, analyzing the bits of each other that bugged us so we could figure out what we were going to have to change and what we were going to agree to put up with. It's kind of amazing, the things that you suddenly realize could become a deal breaker when you imagine putting up with it for the rest of your life. But it allowed us to go into our wedding day with our eyes wide open, ready to face just about anything as a team and totally sure that we could make it through intact.
And man alive, this year has tried to test us. Let me recap:
Kevin lost his job. We got married. We came home, and my car basically imploded and we had to pay a gajillion dollars to fix it. Kevin got a job. My job started getting crazy. Kevin's job got stupid, and then he got laid off. But then he got a job, and my job kept getting more stupidly stressful. JM's dad died, and now....my boss is leaving. Ahem.
My job's not in jeopardy, so I'm not worried about that aspect. What I am worried about is the general chaos that is sure to follow in the wake of his departure. And the only reason I'm worried is because I have a pretty tenuous grasp on my sanity these days.
Kevin and I have always been open with each other about the fact that both of us have suffered from some depressive episodes in the past. I told him once that I would not be surprised if were to end up having to go back onto anti-depressants again. And I'm pretty sure that day is here because the me that Kevin has been living with is not the real me. I spend my days with my mind running a million miles a minute, swooping between laughing at simple jokes and snapping the heads off of anyone who manages to cross my path at the wrong moment. I want to do nothing more than sleep through the night but instead I'm haunted by weird dreams and I wake up every 2 hours despite my best efforts. Food in general bores me and nothingsounds extraordinarily tasty but despite that fact, I can't stop eating whatever is in front of me.
When I'm not cranky, I'm sad. when I'm not sad, I'm achy. (Depression hurts! They said so!) And when I'm not achy, I'm lethargic.
What I'm saying is that it's hard to make it through my days right now, and I feel incredibly badly that a quarter of our first year of marriage has been marked by my downward slide. I feel badly about withdrawing from my friends and not calling people back and being a cranky bitch at work, but mostly I feel badly about inflicting the mood swings and sadness and anxiety on my husband day after day because I didn't want our first year to be remembered as the year I got depressed all over again. But it's hard to spend the year in newlywed bliss when it takes most of your effort to be normal enough to keep on surviving in the day to day world.
Kevin does his best to bring me some beautiful spots of hilarity and love and safety in the midst of all of this, and that is what I'm going to do my best to remember about my first year as Mrs.
He's not a saint, that husband of mine. But he's pretty dang perfect for me.
